


Sink When You Get Close

by NorthernLights37



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Absolute Silliness, F/M, Fluff, Jonerys Remix 2020, Modern AU, New Girl Remix, Nick and Jess but make it Jonerys, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23463181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernLights37/pseuds/NorthernLights37
Summary: Jon needs a buffer for his half-sister's wedding, and his roommate Dany volunteers, because, that's what good roommates do, right?  Pretend to be your girlfriend?  Sleep in your guest room with you?  Never ever talk about that time you made out?
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 114
Kudos: 584
Collections: Jonerys Remix 2020





	Sink When You Get Close

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love New Girl. And I love Jonerys. And my other remix idea, frankly, just went tits up in the middle, so here we are, a little Jonerys with a Nick and Jess twist!
> 
> Title is from the song "Inside Out" by Eve 6, because I was listening to some music from my college years and yes, that song is still my jam. If you haven't screamed the next line, "TIE ME TO THE BEDPOST!!!!" at the top of your lungs while shitfaced at a frat party, have you lived? Well, yes, you probably have. But I still like that song :)
> 
> MASSIVE thanks to my bestest mom friend, dope-ass occasional co-writer, and the world's fastest and most comprehensive beta, Zarya1640, for whipping this into shape. Not all heroes wear capes, but to be honest, I think she could pull it off.
> 
> As always, Mood Board by NoOrdinaryLines, my sister from another mother and mister.

You really don’t have to do this, Dany.” Jon felt like he’d said it a million times already, and he glanced to the passenger seat, frowning when she didn’t even look up from fiddling with the radio dial.

“I know,” she trilled, “but I still am.” She settled on a Top-40 station that she obviously chose to irritate him, judging by the little smirk she gave him when she settled back into her seat, adjusting the belt across her chest.

_Don’t look at her chest, Jon. Don’t do that, loser. That’s not what we’re doing. Not looking at chests, at all._

“Hey, guys,” Dany called to the backseat, where Theon and Grey were arguing over where the exact middle was, so that neither could cross that invisible barrier and invade each other’s space, “I think Jon doesn’t wanna be my pretend boyfriend anymore.” The sing-song way she said things had a tendency to make him roll his eyes, just on it’s own. Sing-songing about HIM was strictly forbidden, a fact he KNEW she was aware of, just choosing to ignore.

They’d been roommates for 2 years now, it wasn’t a mystery for either of them what would aggravate the living hell out of the other.

Theon leaned up, forcing his head between their shoulders as he peered at Dany. “Technically, you agreed to be his pretend girlfriend, which is very different.” When Dany just raised a brow, Theon continued, and Jon’s aggravation levels were reaching heights that frankly shouldn’t be possible.

“Why do you smell like watermelon, man?” Jon squinted at Theon, then forced his eyes back on the road at the man’s smug little smile. “It’s fucking winter, what the hell?”

Theon just pursed his lips and slid a hand against his over-styled hair. “It’s hair chutney, Jonathan, though I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Theon’s blue eyes narrowed as he looked at the haphazard gathering of Jon’s hair behind his head, the wayward curls that brushed at Jon’s collar. “You know, I could lend you an excellent sculpting cream, perhaps some mousse, really show you how to bring out the definition in those curls—”

“I don’t want fucking curl definition, THEON!” His shout was punctuated by his fist striking the wheel, and Theon scoffed in disgust, returning to the back of the car but still calling up to Dany, as Jon met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“You really have terrible taste in pretend boyfriends, Daenerys!” He clucked his tongue like a mother hen, nudging Grey with his arm as he shook his head at Jon’s reflected face. “He looks like he recites terrible beatnik poetry in fast food restrooms.”

Jon narrowed his eyes in return. “Joke’s on you, fast food restroom acoustics are great for my spoken word performances.” Theon pretending to laugh silently, his face finally returning to it’s normal, judgmental mask when Grey elbowed him again.

When he looked to his side, he saw Dany with her hand slapped over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she seemed to force herself to stare at the window. “Don’t encourage him,” he hissed, but the sight of her fighting back giggles, made him smile, just a tiny bit. Just enough.

“Sorry, *Jonathan*,” she whispered back. Something about the way she smiled at him, sometimes, made his chest feel too tight, and his tongue feel too thick, and he would think really stupid things.

Things like: _Maybe I should kiss her?_

But then, he’d already done that, a month ago, had kissed her really hard and really well, and then they’d never spoken of it again.

Or he’d think things like: _She’s looking at me like she wants me to kiss her._

_Is she gonna kiss me?_

_Are we wearing too many clothes?_

_Don’t roommates sometimes hang out naked?_

He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, really.

He’d always thought she was pretty cute. He wouldn’t have said she was his type, necessarily, as Jon tended to like women who were mean, and rude, and treated him like shit, and that wasn’t Dany.

So it was weird that they were doing this at all, driving to his Dad’s place in Winterfell, to go to Sansa’s wedding. It was weird that Theon had insisted, and Grey had agreed, that Jon needed a ‘buffer’.

It was the fucking height of weird, in an awesome way that made him stomach feel like it was twisting in on itself, that Dany had agreed to do this, to pretend to be his girlfriend, in case his psycho ex Ygritte showed up. It was generally agreed upon that when that happened, and Jon got really, really drunk, he’d end up fucking her and then he’d regret it for a year when she started stalking him, again.

So, intellectually, he understood the need for it, but it was just….weird.

Because he had kissed Dany and he knew they were both trying to forget about it and he knew it was a really stupid thing to do, when he was doing it, but he hadn’t been able to help it, really. And now, he was fairly certain, this was going to provide him the opportunity to do it again, if he wanted to.

Was that why she had agreed?

“Jon,” Grey piped up, pulling out a stack of index cards from his duffel and meeting his eyes in the mirror, “stop thinking, man, it’s like, I can hear it. That hamster can only run so fast on that wheel, Jon. Give him a break.”

His arm slipped up, handing Dany the stack of cards. “Okay, Dany, congratulations on becoming Jon’s ‘pretend girlfriend’. You now get to learn all these lovely Stark facts, so that you’re prepared to actually meet these people.” Dany twisted in her seat, taking the cards but watching Grey with growing trepidation. “May God have mercy on your soul.”

Jon saw the look of worry that marred Dany’s perfect features, then immediately scolded himself for thinking about her face like that, like what was that, even? No one had ‘perfect’ features, that was ridiculous. Were her lips some stupidly perfect shade of rosy pink, even first thing in the morning, like she woke up already wearing makeup? Yes, sure, fine, whatever.

_Stupid Dany and her stupid lips._

He watched them, now, twisting down into a frown as they eyed the cards warily, beginning to shuffle through them as she sucked in a deep breath. Then she let out a nervous laugh, hand sliding through her hair, her stupid beautiful hair that was all thick and so blonde it looked silver like some fairy princess, and he had to stop this. He had to stop it right now.

“They can’t be that bad,” she said hesitantly, eyes flicking between all three men, and there she went with her big eyes, some kind of blue but some kind of brownish-green in the center. “Right?”

_Hazel, that’s what they were. Dany and her stupid two-tone eyes._

“They can,” Jon said grimly, hands tightening on the wheel.

Theon poked his head forward again. “This guy,” he started, pointing at Jon, “is like what happens when Shrek and Eeyore have an angry, hairy, slacker baby. So, Dany, where do you think someone like that comes from?”

Dany sat back in her seat, laying the cards in her lap, growing very silent for a moment, all eyes on her as she took that in, really thought about it, and right about now Jon was certain he could turn this car around and she would agree whole-heartedly.

He wouldn’t blame her.

His family was a bunch of nutcases. Certifiable.

“Sorry, kid,” Jon said dryly, finding it easier to keep his eyes on the road than to look at her, right now. “I tried to warn you.”

\------------

Dany looked around the room she was supposed to share with Jon, eyes bulging a bit as she took it all in. She’d known the Starks were kind of a big deal, or whatever, but this place was practically a freaking castle, but they called it a ski lodge, and holy hell that bed looked cozy.

She began to pull items from her suitcase, shaking out some of her dresses and knowing she’d have to iron them before she wore them, shaking her head at the scene that had just occurred.

Theon called Jon’s family eccentric, and Grey had told her they were odd, but she thought Jon had been the closest when he’d whispered to her, just before the massive oak and glass front doors had opened, that his family was ‘fucking crazy.’

“Yeah,” she sighed to herself, grabbing several sets of pajamas and her socks and tossing them into the open dresser drawer, “that just about covers it.”

“Talking to yourself, Dany? First sign that you’re losing it, you know.” She wrinkled her nose at Jon when he walked into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him and wagging his finger at her. “Happened quicker than I thought, I have to say.”

He’d pulled his suitcase in behind him, a haphazard, barely-held together mix of old leather and duct tape, and she pressed her lips together as he wrestled it across the room. “That,” she said, eyeing the piece of luggage as he hoisted it up onto the bed, “is really something, Jon.”

She didn’t understand how Jon could be so unaffected by the cold welcome they’d received, complete with three arguments that ranged from sleeping arrangements to the proper pronunciation of ‘luge’ to why, exactly, they had to wear shoes for dinner.

He just grinned, and gestured to the suitcase before carefully unzipping it so it wouldn’t go off the track. “She’s a beaut, isn’t she? Theon told me to throw it out years ago, but honestly?” He patted the case with a fond hand, sounding wistful. “She’s got some years left in her.”

Dany shook her head, stifling a snort as she kept putting things neatly into her drawers. “Hey, I took the top two.” He glanced up, nodding amiably enough, still trying to fully unzip his suitcase. And she wasn’t sure why she did it, the urge to needle him, to maybe break the tension overwhelming her common sense. She sauntered over, giving him a firm nudge to the shoulder and doing her best Mae West impersonation “Unless you wanna let our undies mingle, boyfriend.” She gave him a saucy wink, snickering as he rolled his eyes at her and groaned.

“You know, you don’t have to call me that when we’re alone, Dany.” She didn’t know how to take his tone. He didn’t sound aggravated, really, more embarrassed than anything as he rubbed the back of his neck and studied the mess of clothes he’d clearly stuffed into his luggage at the last minute.

She furrowed her brows, arms crossed and hip cocked out as she watched him begin to sort through his clothes. “Actually, I do. We have to stay in-character if we’re gonna pull this off, *Jonathan*.” She added extra emphasis just to get his face to twist up, like it always did when he was called that.

“I think I prefer boyfriend to that,” he grumbled, absently taking a ball of socks and tossing them blindly into one of the low drawers.

“That reminds me,” Dany said, flopping onto the bed and rolling onto her side, propping her head up onto her elbow. “We need to get our stories straight. So, are we like, really handsy ‘new boyfriend and girlfriend’, making out in corners and what not, or are we already sick of each other, like the honeymoon’s over?”

Jon slid his eyes towards her, scowling, scooping up another loose handful of clothes and depositing them in his dresser drawer. “Uh. Hmm.” The way he shifted on his feet told her she’d ventured into uncomfortable territory, but the part of her that was a little pissed that he’d had the NERVE to kiss her in the hallway, like THAT, and then refuse to speak of it again was a little glad. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable so I guess just whatever you wanna do.”

She’d have found it very sweet, what he said, if not for his prior transgression. It made HIM more comfortable not to talk about it, but every day that had passed made her skin itch, made a weird burning start in her lady business every time he passed by her in the hall, just feet from where he’d laid one on her like…like he was on the cover of some cheesy romance novel, shirt all unbuttoned, hair all loose and curly and she realized then that he was still talking and she tried to focus.

“Huh?” He looked at her, confused at her response.

“I said, maybe just light handsy, we’ve been dating like six months so we aren’t fucking animals, Dany.”

Her lips pursed, and she rolled onto her back, studying the ceiling as she thought. When she glanced back at him, he looked away quickly, and she wondered what he was thinking.

With Jon it was really impossible to know sometimes.

“How about,” she drawled, rolling back onto her stomach and resting her chin on her folded forearms, “moderately handsy, only occasionally animals. But you have to, you know, act like you’re actually into me.”

She was pushing him, and she knew it, and she wasn’t even really sure why. A part of her knew that she ought to leave it alone, that she’d absolutely kissed him back, and if they took things much further it wouldn’t end well, it would absolutely upset the balance of the loft as it was.

But the other part of her, the part that replayed that kiss over and over, that dreamed that things had gone a hell of a lot further, saw this as a golden opportunity. It might’ve been a fluke, anyway. He might kiss like a cold fish, in reality, and they’d just been too buzzed and in weird moods and it was a one-time thing.

But she had this really strange desire to find out, and she didn’t think she was gonna get a better chance.

“Yeah,” Jon said, letting out a heavy breath that puffed his cheeks. “I know.”

A knock at the door had them both jumping, and then Theon’s voice rang out. “Enough humping, sex machines, time for a terribly awkward dinner!”

Jon slapped a hand over his face, scrubbing at his beard as he grimaced at Dany. “No singing,” he said, pointing at her and trying to sound stern.

She just stood, smoothing out her swingy skirt, and gave him an incredulous look. “Put on shoes,” she returned, pointing at his stocking feet.

He frowned, and pouted, and it took a lot of willpower not to stroll over and suck his poked out bottom lip between hers.

 _No, Dany_ , she chided herself. _Save it for dinner._

Instead, she sauntered past him, as he began to search for his shoes frantically, lowering her voice to a way-too-sultry tone and giving him a wink when he looked up. “See you at dinner, *boyfriend*.”

\-------------

Dinner was, in Jon’s approximation, a fucking nightmare, the never-ending kind, the horribly embarrassing kind, like the ones where you dreamed you were naked at school and giving a speech about Earth Day.

His dad had started in with yet another story about the time he made the Olympic Trial team, because ‘Dany hasn’t heard it!’ and everyone had to listen to thirty straight minutes about the perils of the two- man bobsled.

Then, his stepmother had launched in about Sansa’s upcoming wedding, and had giving him a dagger-like stare when lecturing that everyone would act properly, that there would be no keg-stands, no body shots, nor anything else, leading to a chorus of groans from at least half the table.

How was he supposed to survive this if he couldn’t be plastered?

Then Sansa had started in, and when Arya had whispered to him that his half-sister had turned into an absolute bitch over her wedding, he’d thought she was exaggerating, but she definitely wasn’t. He was used to a fair amount of bitchiness from everyone, but when she’d set her sights on Dany, who’d spent half the meal curled up against his side and attempting to feed him bits of her roll, he’d nearly lost it.

“Dany,” she’d said, her mouth pinched just like her awful mother’s, “I do hope you brought something besides polka dots to wear.” She’d shared a tittering little laugh with Catelyn, and the anger that was normally at a low simmer inside him had boiled over quickly.

Mostly because he’d turned to look at her, and she’d looked really, genuinely hurt, glancing down at her dress, and god it had made him so fucking mad, because as he looked at it, he thought it was a really cute dress, and she was really cute, and there was nothing wrong with what she wore, even though sometimes she looked like Glinda the Good Witch.

So Jon had settled his hand over her shoulder, raising her arm up and grabbing the bite of roll she still held, that he’d been refusing because she was being so over the top ridiculous, with his teeth. He chewed, open-mouthed, staring Sansa down. “It’s all polka dots, sis. I love polka dots. Polka dots are my favorite damn pattern, now.”

He’d swallowed his bite, and risked another look at Dany, who was smiling at him so sweetly that he forgot to breathe for a moment. “You and your polka dot fetish.” She tweaked his nose, then turned back to the table. “Dinner’s really good, Mrs. Stark.”

Cat had smiled, just barely, then at least attempted conversation. “So, Dany, what do you do when you’re not teaching?”

When Dany had explained that many of her favorite activities involved glitter, and craft glue, and way too many googly eyes, Sansa had let out a nasty little snort, and Jon had had just about enough of their horseshit.

He’d grabbed Dany’s hand, and pulled her up, shoving his chair in forcefully.

“Jon Snow!” Cat’s reprimand hardly made a dent as he palmed Dany’s hand in his and began to march out of the room. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“We’re gonna go cover ourselves in glitter and make out,” he called out, to the room at large, turning to glare at Sansa and Cat as he pushed the door open and Dany began to giggle. “We’re gonna make out,*real hard*.”

Dany had lost it, then, collapsing against him as he hustled them out into the hall, her laugh echoing through the corridor as he let out a bark of laughter, too. “Fuck them,” he’d said, tugging at her fingers and pulling her behind him. “Let’s go grab some sandwiches and get drunk.”

So now here they were, in the enormous kitchens, while Old Nan made them some hasty peanut butter sandwiches and gave him knowing looks as she kept glancing at Dany.

“You just ignore them all, Johnny.” She slapped a sandwich in his hand, thick homemade bread, still warm from the oven, with a decent layer of peanut butter in between. “They’re all just mad because Robb’s not in yet.”

She looked back at Dany, again, and Jon wanted to tell the old woman to stop being so terribly obvious. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing. I could just put you in my pocket.”

Dany smiled, licking a smear of peanut butter from her thumb, and Jon had to look away at the thoughts that rushed through his mind. “Let’s hide out in Old Nan’s pocket, Jon. Your family is…,” she trailed off, and knowing Dany, she was probably looking for a nice way to say his family was an annoying clusterfuck, “intense.”

Jon rubbed at his temple, looking down at his plaid button down hanging open, ratty t-shirt underneath, and worn jeans. “I’m gonna wear this all week, just to fuck with them.”

Dany laughed, reaching over to stroke his arm, and he tried really fucking hard to ignore what that sensation did to other parts of his body. Downstairs Jon, that traitorous fuck, was on particularly high alert, and he quickly made sure the tails of his long shirt covered any evidence. “That’s fine, Jon, I’m going to wear so many polka dots people will think I have,” she glanced at the blue dots on her dress, “really weird measles.”

Old Nan looked at her, confused. “What’s wrong with polka dots?”

Dany raised a hand, holding it in the air until Old Nan looked to Jon, her confusion now saved for him.

“She wants a high five,” Jon said on an exhale, taking a big bite of his sandwich and talking around it. “She’ll stay like that for an hour until you give it to her.”

Old Nan obliged, an odd look on her face, until Dany heartily slapped her raised palm against the old woman’s.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Dany’s hearty exclamation was followed by a big bite of her own sandwich, and she gave Jon a bread and peanut butter grin as she hooked her thumb at Old Nan. “This woman appreciates a good polka dot,” she continued, around a mouthful of her sandwich, and for a minute, it was easy to forget that he was surrounded by people he couldn’t stand. That’s what she always did, and sometimes it was really amazingly aggravating, that she could just make him feel better. He liked to wallow. Wallowing was something he was really good at, like definitely one of his top five resume skills.

He let himself just enjoy it, for a second, even though it would only make this longing to kiss her even more awkward, because they had to share a bed tonight, and he just wasn’t sure how he was gonna survive it.

Dany swallowed. “Nan, tomorrow, I’m gonna come down here, and dazzle you with my cupcake skills.”

Jon snorted, then noticed Dany’s playful scowl and cleared his throat. “She makes a mean cupcake, Nan.”

Then Dany smiled, and he had to shake himself out of the dumb stupor he felt himself slipping into. “Okay,” he declared, walking to one of the huge commercial fridges and snagging a six pack out. “Enough talking, time for drinking.” He grabbed his sandwich, tucked the six pack under his arm, and backed through the swinging doors that led out into the hall. “C’mon Dany, these beers aren’t gonna drink themselves.” He stopped himself, correcting, as she climbed down from the kitchen stool she’d perched on. “Actually, no, I’m gonna drink ‘em all, so you better hustle.”

Dany grinned and mock saluted before waving goodbye to Nan. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

\------------

Jon leaned back in his chair, staring from the balcony down to the snow below, finishing his third beer. Things were fine, he thought, glancing at Dany in profile as she stared up at the sky.

But the silence felt like it was full of something, and he had a pretty good idea what, because his stomach was churning with a frantic terrified excitement every time he caught a glance at the king-sized bed through the balcony door.

“So,” he said, drawing out the word, “I think I should officially welcome you to the Stark family nuthouse.” He sat his bottle beside his chair, gesturing like a Price is Right showcase model, as she giggled and took a sip of her own beer. “Where the insults are free, and the cheese is fancy.”

Dany swallowed, sighing as her breath fogged the air in front of her. He was used to the cold, but she’d grabbed a blanket from the bed and swaddled herself in it, so that only her head poked through the top.

“You look like a burrito,” he said, snickering, reaching down to find the six pack now empty. “Shit. Beer’s gone.”

He heard her lips smack together, and glanced up to see her scowling at him, one she didn’t mean, he was sure.

He knew all her expressions now. That was the deal, when you lived with someone, and in those terms Dany was like, his longest actual relationship. Except she wasn’t really his girlfriend, and they weren’t dating, they just lived together and shared the same shower space and their toothbrushes hung near each other, and one time they’d kissed.

He wondered if she ever thought about it.

He’d thought it was a pretty good kiss, actually, some of his best work, but they were good at pretending things didn’t happen, so that’s what he would do. If she wanted to talk about it, he knew she would, so he’d just wait and see.

“It’s really beautiful here, Jon.” She was looking at the ground below, the buildings all coated in snow and lit from within, and if he didn’t know how fucking mental almost everyone was here, he’d agree. “Like a snow globe.”

Jon chuckled, and stood, groaning as he stretched his back and held his arms over his head. “Yeah,” he finally answered, looking down at her just as she tipped her head up to look at him, “except in snow globes, you probably don’t feel the urge to tell everyone to shut the hell up every five minutes.”

She made a face, as though she were deep in thought. “I don’t know, Jon. I feel like that’s anywhere *you* go, even snow globes.”

Jon pulled his own face, thwacking her blanket covered shoulder with his hand. “Rude. I’m going to bed, Polka Dots. I need my beauty sleep.” He ignored her emphatic nod and cackle as he walked back into the warmth of the room, pulling the sliding door shut hastily as she made to follow.

“Jon,” she said warningly, her voice muffled by the thick glass. “Open the door.”

“I don’t know,” he said, free hand scratching at his jaw. “You just called me ugly.”

“Jonathan!” He winced as she yelped his full name. “You open that door this instant!” She smacked her hand on the glass, and he started laughing when she began to rapidly pound her palm against it. “I’m not joking, Mister!”

Jon grinned, shaking his head. “Not until you tell me,” he paused, thinking quickly, “that I’m the most handsome man in all the land.” She glared at him, finally gritting her teeth, and forcing a smile.

“You are the most handsome man in all the land,” she said, forcefully pushing against the door, and she stumbled forward when he finally slid it open, saved from a taste of the thick cream colored carpet by a swift catch.

“Ah, thanks, Dany. I mean, I like to think so, but it’s always nice to hear it from someone else, you know?”

She untangled herself from the blanket, her mouth set in a firm line, and he realized why he’d done that, in an instant, because she was entirely fucking hot when she was pissed.

She swatted at his shoulder, hard. “You’re a real ass, sometimes.”

Jon nodded agreeably. “I really am. Why do you have such shitty taste in pretend boyfriends?”

Dany stalked to the dresser, pulling out flannel bottoms and a thin white top, and if God was real and listening Jon prayed fervently that she would keep her bra on, because he was definitely gonna look and they were gonna share a bed and friends didn’t let friends feel their boners in their sleep.

He assumed, anyway.

She waved her hand at him, gesturing with her pajamas. “Now I know where you get it from. I get dibs on the bathroom first, ass…,” she spluttered, “face!”

He laughed, probably too loudly judging by the way she stomped off to the bathroom and shut the door, and grabbed for his own flannels as quick as he could. Shimmying out of his clothes and into his pajamas, he sat on the end of the bed and waited, glad he’d chosen his good pair, the red and green kind with only like, three holes.

Theon kept saying he should throw them away, but he clearly didn’t know the value in a good, broken-in pair of flannel pajama pants, and that was his problem, not Jon’s.

The door flew open, and he was really proud that he only barely noticed she didn’t have a bra on, and he was thoroughly relieved that she scurried under the covers as quick as she could, burying herself under mountains of blankets and sheets.

He didn’t know what it meant, that she picked the opposite side of the bed from the one he liked.

It didn’t mean anything stupid like they were made for each other. Not at all that.

He took his time, washing his face and brushing his teeth, sneaking some of her toothpaste because she bought the good kind with the gel in the middle, and gave himself a five minute pep talk in the mirror about staying on his side of the bed and not making any contact with Dany in his sleep.

When he left the bathroom, she was facing away, on the very edge, and she’d shoved a line of extra pillows in the space between them. He thought she was asleep, but as soon as he’d settled his head on the pillow he heard her voice.

“Goodnight, assface.”

He laughed, and pushed the side of his face deeper into his pillow. “Goodnight, Dany.”

\-------------

When Dany awoke, she realized that her pillow smelled oddly familiar.

Eyes still closed, she smushed her face further into it, wondering why the Starks supplied their guest rooms with such firm pillows. And warm, too.

Then she felt the snore beneath her cheek, and cracked her eyes open, slowly, because while her mind realized what was happening, her body was slow to catch up.

Her feet were tangled between his calves.

His arms were behind her back, holding her close to his chest.

And she’d definitely slept on Jon last night.

That, alone, ought to make her push up and away from him. She should. She really, really should.

But she was really comfy, and a part of her didn’t want to start the day at all, didn’t want to be around his awful family, in this strange place, where apparently enjoying fun patterns was a major faux pas.

She’d agreed to this, surely she was entitled to a little enjoyment, right? This was a really big favor, after all.

She relaxed against him, bit by bit, willing herself to just lay there and soak in the Jon-ness of it, before he woke up and got all grumpy and snippy, and so she did, for like five entire minutes of blissful silence.

Then he shifted under her cheek, and she knew from the way he tensed that he was also awake and aware that her pillow wall had not held, during the night.

She wasn’t sure who moved them. She had a suspicion it might’ve been her. But if pressed she was going to deny it.

“Shit.” His whisper sounded equally concerned and horrified. “Shit, shit, shit.” The gentle way he pulled his arm from under her head was deeply at odds with the amusing amount of fear in his voice, and she decided to play it off, blinking slowly awake to find him staring at her. “Uh, hey, good morning, I guess,” he stammered, then made a beeline for the bathroom.

Her amusement slowly faded into an old, familiar irritation. It wasn’t like they were unaware of the attraction between them. And honestly, if he was going to keep looking like a deer in the headlights around her, she was going to have to force his hand.

She planned out exactly what she would do, as he took what seemed to be the world’s longest shower.

\------------

Dany spent the entire day clinging to him like a baby chimpanzee, and he was slowly going mad.

She refused to let go of his hand at breakfast, and as Theon and Grey had snickered behind their fists, Cat had frowned at them both. “Do you often eat with one hand?

Dany had jumped in before he could respond, dropping her fork and stroking her hand through his beard before turning her face and pressing her cheek to his. “We just LOVE to be touching. Just, like, all the time. Sometimes it’s like we’re one person now, instead of two, isn’t that right, sugar britches?”

Arya had dissolved into a heap of helpless laughter, while Sansa had just rolled her eyes and his father had cleared his throat. “Well, that’s very nice.”

Jon had just smiled, tightly, until the moment they were alone, crowded in a corner of the ballroom that would be used for Sansa’s reception. “Sugar britches?” She’d just looked at him calmly and given him a serene twist of her lips.

By dinner, he’d accepted that she had commandeered his hand until further notice, but she plopped into his lap in the foyer, when he’d merely been trying to hide out from, well, everyone, he finally had to say something.

“What are you doing?”

She toyed with the hair at his neck, kicking her feet merrily as she glanced around. “Whaddaya mean, boyfriend?”

She nestled further into his lap, and he knew he was seconds away from making things way more uncomfortable. He shifted, frowning at her. “Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?”

Dany scrunched up her lips, pretending to pout. “Oh, no,” she moaned loudly, “don’t you love me no more?” Her hillbilly accent was even worse than her Mae West one, and when she threw her hand across her forehead dramatically, he gave up.

“Dany,” he began, “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I—”

The sound of footsteps behind him brought him to a screeching halt. “JOHNNY!”

He closed his eyes, and, accent forgotten, Dany leaned close, lips tickling his earlobe as she whispered, “Who’s that?”

Jon groaned. “My asshole brother,” he said miserably, and thankfully she climbed from his lap. He turned to find Robb, dressed impeccably, girlfriend Margaery hanging from his arm. He gritted his teeth as Robb just glanced at him, then obviously eyed Dany up and down.

“Who is *this*?” He bore Robb’s half hug, jaw clenching at the way his half-brother couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dany and her stupid beautiful silver curls and her stupid green polka dot dress and her stupid little sweater that made her look way too adorable to be allowed.

“Robb,” Jon bit out, sharing a long-suffering look with Margaery. “This is Dany, my girlfriend.” He looked to Dany, who was watching him intently, and he took her hand and squeezed it, suddenly finding the thought of her hand in his very, very appealing. “Dany, this is my brother Robb, and his girlfriend, Margaery.”

Robb took a step back, looking between Dany and Jon, that same cocky smirk he always wore plastered on his face as he directed his focus to Dany. “Got yourself a real hottie this time, bro.”

Jon narrowed his eyes, realizing Robb was considerably drunk, a fact confirmed when Margaery mimed drinking with her hand over Robb’s shoulder. He pulled Dany closer to him, letting go of her hand to swing his arm over her shoulder. Robb got handsy as fuck when he was drunk, and here Dany was, being a hottie and doing this favor for him, and if Robb tried to get too friendly he was pretty sure he was gonna break his half-brother’s nose.

Dany seemed to sense something was up, and she played along, and he finally appreciated what she’d been doing all day when she stared directly into his eyes and smiled sweetly. “Oh, Jonathan, *darling*,” she said in her sophisticated lady voice, one she normally used on telemarketers, “I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned your brother until now!” She extended her free hand, looping the fingers of her other through his belt loop, shaking both Robb’s and Margaery’s in what Jon had assumed was a refined manner. “How positively *delightful* to meet you both.”

Margaery appeared to be fighting back a laugh, but Robb just looked confused. “You haven’t mentioned me before?” He leaned forward, slurring slightly in a stage whisper as he took Dany’s hand and pressed a sloppy kiss to the back of it. “I’m the handsome, successful one.”

He saw Dany grimace, as she pulled her hand away, and then she was sliding her fingers along his cheek and he really, really wanted to lean into her touch. “Oh, no,” she said exaggeratedly, “I have to disagree, good sir. My sweet Jonathan is the absolute belle of the ball.” Her eyes widened at the end, glued on his, and he saw her realize she’d slid into her southern belle accent without meaning to. That didn’t stop her from continuing though. “Why, I positively have the vapors every time I look at his beautiful manly face.”

Robb glanced at Margaery, then at Jon, who just shrugged, not trusting himself to speak for a moment, because Dany was so ridiculous sometimes, and it was really making him hot for her, and he really needed to get a fucking grip. He gathered himself, managing to keep a straight face. “You heard the lady.” He slid his hand down to her hip, not daring to look at Dany when he did it, knowing that was probably way over the line. “The vapors. Manly face.” He gestured up and down his own body. “Pretty much the whole package, I guess.”

Robb just shook his head, seemingly glad when Sansa and Cat wandered in, and rushed to go hug them like the mommy’s boy he was.

“Good to see you again, Jon,” Margaery whispered, wrestling with their suitcase and giving Dany an odd look. “Nice to meet you, Dany.”

They were alone again, and Jon became very aware of the shift of fabric under his hand, as he continued to palm the curve of her hip, and why did she wear these flowy skirts all the time? It was really beginning to rankle him, the way that particular curve fitted to his hand, and he was seized by the desire to know how it felt without all the clothes in the way.

Dany was wincing slightly, when he finally looked at her, her hand still linked into the belt loop of his jeans. “I get it,” she breathed out, slumping slightly, cheeks turning pink, like she was suddenly embarrassed. “Too much. Southern Belle is always too much. It just slipped out!”

Jon looked down at her, realizing how good it felt, how dangerous it was, to have her so close against him, holding her like this. He blew out a breath, and shook his head. “Actually,” he said slowly, “that was pretty awesome. Thanks.” He squeezed her hip, before he could stop himself, then let her go, putting a foot of space between them and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Dany’s eyes flitted from his face, to his body, to his hands now hidden away. A smile crept across her face, something far too knowing flashing in her eyes. “Anytime, boyfriend.”

Then she linked her arm through his, and began informing him of which bridesmaids Theon had been scamming on that afternoon, as they made their way to dinner, together.

\----------

If Jon didn’t smush his stupid, pretty mouth to hers soon, Dany was absolutely sure she was gonna lose it.

Four nights.

Four nights, they’d slept in the same bed, always waking up wound around each other, like crazy dysfunctional magnets that couldn’t help but be drawn to each other the moment they fell asleep and stopped thinking.

Jon was definitely a morning wood guy, she had learned. And it was impressive.

She pretended not to see, but she saw, and whoa momma she wanted a piece of that.

Yes, he was irritating, and yes, he was a slacker most of the time, and yes, he was the cheapest man on the planet.

These things were all facts about him with which she was well-acquainted.

His family seemed particularly focused on those things.

But it was like they didn’t know the Jon she knew, the Jon who could be really sweet when she was sad or she’d had a rough day and he would ‘just happen’ to need to run to the store and mysteriously come back with the ice cream she liked to drown her sorrows in. When she got a flat tire and couldn’t change it, he would show up, cheerfully complaining the whole time, with this pleased little look on his face that she’d needed his help.

Jon was loyal, too, that much she knew. His ex-girlfriend had shown up yesterday, and Dany thought it was a really bitch move of Jon’s sister to invite her, even if they had been sorority sisters, and whenever that ginger monster so much as glanced Jon’s way she’d plastered herself to him like she was his favorite jacket. She knew all about how that woman had broken Jon’s heart and cheated on him and cheaters were really, really the worst.

There were other things about Jon she liked, the sorts of things she would normally bury down deep, but so much forced closeness to him was pushing her to the brink of her control.

Theon waved a hand in front of her eyes, shaking her from her reverie. “Dany.” He snapped his fingers in front of her face, until he had her attention. “Okay, let’s recap today’s mission. Stay near Jon the entire wedding. I’m talking the walk up, I’m talking the ceremony, I’m talking through the last very unattractive awkward step that Jon calls dancing at the reception.” He shook his head, grimacing. “That boy has no rhythm at all.”

Grey piped up, already wearing his suit, just as Theon was. “It’s true. Have you seen him try a robot? It’s really sad. Like the batteries are dead.”

Theon nodded. “Okay, also things to keep in mind. Keep him away from Ygritte. If he gets drunk and she catches him at a weak moment, well,” Theon trailed off, shuddering, “I had to throw away the last doormat. Who leaves a dead rat in front of someone’s front door? Are we in Mad Max world now? Just hooligans, run amok?”

Dany glanced down at her dress, one Theon had insisted she bring, one she’d never worn before. She liked comfy things, cozy things, things that were unique and quirky. But this dress was way shorter and way more skin baring than she’d ever normally wear, and her one consolation was that the wedding was indoors, instead of out, or all her secret lady things would definitely be covered in icicles.

She tugged at the one shouldered dress, pleased, at least, that the top layer was a soft, gauzy lavender. “How do I look?” She wasn’t sold on the strappy heels, either, but there was the shoe rule to abide by, after all, and she was a guest here, so she’d follow them at least as long as Jon did.

“Like a certified PIECE!” Theon’s exaggerated exclamation was met by matching frowns from both Dany and Grey.

“No,” Grey said, disapprovingly. “Don’t say that.”

“Ever again,” Dany agreed. She fidgeted, tugging the hemline of the body-hugging skirt, wishing it would give an inch, but then everything else stopped existing because Jon came in and he was wearing a tux and holy SHIT did he look like a certified PIECE. “Wow,” she said under her breath, stunned.

Theon was almost beside himself, no doubt because Jon had finally relented and let Theon dress him. “Look, Dany!” He pointed at Jon’s hair, which was loose, for once, raven curls looking meticulously placed, and had Jon ever considered modeling? Because he could pull it off, for sure. For sure sure. “Hair chutney!”

Jon’s face wrinkled in exasperation, smacking Theon’s hand aside. “Stop it, man! I told you, one more word about your hair products and I’m washing it all out and wearing my comfy clothes.” He tugged at his neck, where an expertly tied bowtie seemed to be choking him. “I hate these things.”

He finally seemed to focus on Dany, then, and he froze, finger still stuck between his collar and his neck. “Holy shit, Dany, you look—”

“Super fly!” Theon provided, and Jon’s mouth twisted in distaste, giving the man a warning look before he let his eyes wander back to Dany.

Unlike the way his brother Robb did it, Dany wasn’t creeped out by Jon’s obvious once-over, something hot blooming in her chest at how dark his eyes seemed, all of a sudden.

“Different,” he finished, more than a little awkwardly. “You look different.”

She felt her lips twitch. “Like, good different or bad different?”

With the looks both Grey and Theon were giving him, Jon seemed to realize he ought to say something. “Oh, uh,” he stammered, “good different, really good different. It’s just,” she saw the muscle tick in his jaw, “There wasn’t anything wrong with your other dresses, either.”

Dany felt an absurdly stupid grin start, only to be halted by Theon waving his hand wildly in the air towards her and scowling. “Incorrect, there were several things wrong. I have created a work of living art, tonight. Tell her she looks pretty, Jonathan.” Theon’s foot tapped impatiently, and for a moment Jon just stood there, staring at her like he was starving and she was dinner, and honestly he didn’t really need to say anything, and sure it was cold out but the room felt like it was getting insanely hot when he finally spoke.

“Daenerys,” he said gruffly, as Theon looked on pointedly, “you look really pretty. Like, really insanely pretty.” Then he smiled at her, that really shy kind he did where he was being totally honest which always made him a little weirded out, and held his arm out. “Now let’s get moving before my brother clears out the bar.”

Dany laughed, and took his arm, and tried to pretend they weren’t staring at each other as they headed downstairs for Sansa’s wedding.

\------------

Jon was so fucking close to breaking Robb’s nose it was scary.

He wasn’t sure how Margaery put up with the dumb ass. Dany had run off to the bathroom with Robb’s girlfriend, and now, in her absence, he felt his eyes threatening to permanently affix themselves to the interior of his eye sockets as Robb started in again.

“Jon,” Robb said, leaning in, breath reeking of his eightieth rum and coke, “You gotta tell me, man.” He nodded towards where Dany and Marg had run off to, a sly smile on his face. “That Dany seems like a real sweetie, but I bet she fucks like a wildcat, yeah?”

He took a deep breath, seeing Theon and Grey shake their heads from beside him. This wasn’t the place to get into a fistfight with Robb, and he knew that, of course. He had not, as he was often accused of, usually by Theon, been raised in a barn.

He knew how to behave in public.

“Don’t talk about her like that, man.” He glared at his half-brother, checking his watch and figuring he had about thirty minutes ‘til he could make an escape with Dany.

Robb seemed unable to take a hint, and punched lightly at Jon’s arm. “C’mon, Johnny.” He whistled under his breath, shaking his head. “You can tell me. I bet she’s tight as—”

Jon was out of his chair before he could stop himself, his hand grabbing tight to Robb’s collar, hauling the other man clear of his chair and pulling him roughly until their faces were so close he thought he could get more drunk on Robb’s every exhale. “I told you already. Don’t talk about her like that. Last warning.”

Theon finally chimed in, as Robb stared at Jon in disbelief. “Not cool, Robb. You can’t talk about another man’s Boo like that.”

Grey let out a frustrated sigh, as Jon let go of Robb, still giving him a hard stare as Robb shook himself slightly. “Nope. Not Boo, Theon. Pick something else. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.”

Jon felt twitchy and out of sorts, looking around for Dany, mentally trying to will her to appear.

Which was how he missed Robb’s hard shove to his shoulder, and it caught him off-guard, making him catch himself on the edge of the table as he looked at his half-brother in surprise. “Are you serious, Robb?”

Robb just glared at him, jaw clenched, and shoved a hand through his hair. “What’s your deal, man? You didn’t care when I talked about Ygritte like that.”

“That was different,” Jon ground out, and God help him he really thought it would feel awesome to bury his fist in Robb’s face right now. Robb just scoffed, and took a step closer. “So lay off her, you got it?”

“Yeah,” Robb said sarcastically, “I got you, *bro*.” He shoved Jon, again, and Jon grabbed his arm, ready to twist it behind his back and shove Robb face-first into the horribly tacky pink and yellow table decorations, because fuck this reception, honestly. Just fuck it all to hell.

“Jon?” Dany’s voice had him slowly releasing his grip, but he didn’t look at her, just held his hand out to take hers, and sneered at his brother as Margaery hesitantly approached the pair from Robb’s left.

“Let’s go dance.” He finally turned to glance at her, not really liking the worry on her face, not one bit, so he gave her a tight smile. “I really feel like I need to express myself through dance, Boo.”

Theon let out an outraged cry. “How come he can say it?”

Grey shrugged, Jon saw, and just waved a hand in Jon’s general direction. “It’s cool when he says it.”

Theon smacked his hands on to the tabletop. “This is egregious, absolutely EGREGIOUS.”

Jon didn’t stay to hear the rest, or to watch Margaery begin to pepper Robb with questions. He just tugged Dany out to a far corner of the dance floor, assuming the standard middle school dance position of his hands around her waist, rocking awkwardly but not really giving a shit as her hands crept up to his shoulders.

They looked at each other, not saying a word, until finally Dany gave him a half-smile. “Boo?”

“Ugh. It was something Theon was saying.” He shook his head. “Just forget it.”

Dany nodded, looking down at their feet and the distance between them, then shuffling a bit closer. “So,” she finally said, “you wanna tell me what that was, with your brother?”

Jon felt his anger roiling away in his stomach, mixing terribly with the whiskey he’d downed already. His head dropped back and he closed his eyes for a minute. Then he rolled his head forward, and looked at her, really looked at her, and she was so beautiful that it made his eyes hurt, so he pulled her closer.

“Not really,” he said with a wry smile, wondering how exactly it was she hadn’t smacked the shit out of him for kissing her in the hall and wondering why now, of all times, he had to think about it, because he’d had enough to drink that he might do something really dumb like bringing it up. And yep, there it was, on the tip of his tongue, and he was just gonna say it. “Hey, I’m really sorry about last month?” He didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it did. “Like, that was weird, right?”

She looked startled, and stumbled for a second, but then her hands were locked around his neck tight as she regained her balance on her really sexy shoes. “Uh—”

Jon couldn’t stop his verbal vomit, now that it had started. “I mean, I don’t know what I was thinking, kissing you like that, like, that was really dumb and it probably made you feel really weird and I was way out of line for that and very decently drunk, too.”

Dany didn’t say a word and it was kind of freaking him out, how she was so quiet about it, but she was staring so deep into his eyes that he felt a little invaded, like she was looking for something, and he doubted there was much there besides his way too in-depth knowledge of mixed drinks and local take out menu options, but then she smiled. “It’s cool, Jon. We’re cool. The coolest.”

He let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and let his hands do the work of closing the distance between them, until they were doing some sort of weird, swaying hug. His face ended up buried in the spiral of silver curls that trailed over her shoulder. “Cool,” he whispered against her hair, and she giggled, hands holding his neck a little more firmly.

Then she stiffened, and pulled back, her eyes wide and vaguely terrified. “Oh, hey, before I forget, I ran into your crazy psycho ex in the bathroom.” A mildly frightened laugh spluttered out as she hugged him a little tighter. “I’m pretty sure she has a knife, so, you know, we oughta watch out for that.”

Jon let out a helpless laugh, dipping his head to let his forehead rest against hers. “Fuck, everyone here is crazy, Dany.”

Dany’s eyes seemed focused somewhere in the region of his mouth, and then she licked her lips, and that was really hot, the way she was staring at *his* lips like that while he was staring at hers, and before he knew it his hands were holding tight to her waist, and then there was no space between their bodies, like not even a little bit, and she finally looked back up at him.

“Were you gonna fight your brother, Jon? Because that was definitely ‘Pick a Fight’ Jon, back there.”

Jon hemmed, tipping his head back and forth, fingers digging into the skin at her sides through the fabric of her dress as he tightened his hold. “Yeah, kinda. Probably. Yeah. Yeah, I was gonna knock a few teeth loose, I think.”

He was beginning to think she wasn’t gonna leave it alone, because she had that look in her eyes, like the one she got when she was determined to find out who drank the last of the coffee creamer, and then she was brushing her lips against his earlobe and that was definitely cheating and completely unfair and possibly extortion. “Why, Jon?”

“Why does it matter?”

He felt her nails prick the skin at his neck, lightly. “I just wanna know, as your pretend girlfriend. In this pretend relationship we can’t have secrets.” Fuck, her hot breath on his ear shouldn’t feel so damn good, but it did, and he was weak, really, so weak when it came to her.

“He said some things about you that really pissed me off.” If she wanted to play teasing games he could play that too, and he let his palm spread on her lower back while his other slid higher, teasing at the bare skin just above the material of her dress, between her shoulder blades. “And I didn’t like the way he was talking. That’s it. Now you know.”

She was quiet, and all he could hear was the cheesy 90’s power ballad blaring around them, but then he felt her teeth glance against his earlobe and THAT he was certain was way way way over the line, but he groaned anyway, and tucked his fingers into the fabric of her dress as she shuddered against him.

“That’s kinda awesome. Like, I think you should know, you’re actually pretty decent at pretend boyfriend stuff. Mostly. There is some room for improvement.” Jon pulled back, but she didn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on his throat as it bobbed with his heavy swallow.

“That’s fair,” he sighed. “I did lock you out on the balcony.”

Dany snorted, and finally their eyes caught and held, and she really was cute in a beautiful and hot and sweet kinda way, and there was that urge again, the same one from the hallway, where he was gonna kiss her and probably soon. “Hey, Jon? Can I tell you something?”

He tensed, just a little, because she was probably gonna tell him pretend time was officially over and she was tired of him snoring in her ear all night.

Dany’s mouth quirked up. “I’m not sorry you kissed me. Just so you know.” She let out a shaking breath, her own fingers tucking into his collar, dipping just below the white fabric. “I was thinking,” she glanced around like she was nervous, eyes darting everywhere but never landing, “maybe, if you want, we could go and, you know—”

He thought he knew.

Like, he was pretty sure he knew where this was going.

But he wasn’t gonna say it.

“No, I don’t know Dany. Whatever do you mean?”

She looked at him incredulously, then, but quickly her eyes softened, and had they always been all sparkly and shiny like that? He thought that yeah, maybe, they probably were always like that.

Dany shrugged innocently enough, but her mouth crept so close to his that he was pretty sure if she didn’t move they were gonna definitely make out really hard in front of everyone, and his hands were gonna go places they probably shouldn’t, and he dimly recalled his stepmother mentioning certain reception behavior as being ‘off-limits’.

“You wanna go back to our room and fool around, boyfriend?”

Sure, he’d thought she might say that, he’d absolutely hoped she might say that, as much as he knew it was an awful, terrible idea that they definitely shouldn’t do. He sucked in one breath, then another, eyes wide, unable to look away.

She was serious, he realized.

“Uh, yeah, yeah I for sure wanna go fool around.” He *thought* she was serious, but it occurred to him he ought to double check just to make sure. “Do YOU wanna go fool around?”

The way she smiled was so fucking devious, it bordered on wicked, and he thought there were lots of things he’d like to do to her, if they went upstairs, if she said ‘yes’ right now.

“Definitely,” she said, and then she kissed him, fast and hard, right there in front of everyone, then she was grabbing his hands and pushing through the crowd of bodies on the dance floor and oh fucking boy this was happening.

\-----------

This was crazy, she thought, as he pushed her back against the elevator wall and kissed her in that way that made her back arch and her nipples ache and everything below her navel was very, very wet, all of a sudden. How did he do this to her? She was normally a very long foreplay and soft music and talking about feelings kind of girl, but Jon made her feel like some sort of wild animal was stuck inside her and it wanted out and if she was being one hundred percent honest it was really, really hot.

He could really kiss, Jon Snow could, and she moaned into his mouth as his tongue slid against hers and her knees went weak and she could only hang on, arms locked around his neck, as he tried to eat her mouth with his.

The chime dinged, and they both pulled away, breathless, and she was a little nervous, a little unsure all of a sudden because this was definitely not a great idea.

But he seemed really, really sure, and now it was him tugging her along, almost running to their room, fumbling only for a second to slip the keycard into the lock before the door was open and they were tumbling through.

She tripped over her shoes, and his arms were there to catch her and she wondered how she’d resisted touching him like this before now because he was really, really strong under her hands, as she smoothed her palms along his shoulders and arms, and there were sure a lot of ideas rolling around in her noggin about ways to put that to use.

But then he kissed her, again, the kind of kiss where he pushed her against the wall and held her face in both his hands and her toes were curling and she had to stop thinking altogether. All she could do was grab on, and gasp for air every time his lips parted from hers, and later she had to remember to try and figure out how they could be that soft, his lips, but they were also really firm and it was a lethal combination.

Then his hand trailing up the zipper to her dress, the one that ran down her right side, and she wriggled in anticipation, tired of being crammed into the fabric and really, really ready to find out what his big hands would feel like on her bare skin.

“Uh, Dany?” He was speaking, and she wasn’t sure why, but at least it was in between bites and nips at the skin along her throat, and sweet baby Jane it was like he just knew what would make her eyes roll back in her head, but why was he talking?

She plunged her fingers into his hair, her head hitting the wall as she tossed it back, holding him to her skin. “Yeah?”

He licked up the tendon in her neck and she moaned his name, and then he moaned and she just had a feeling, just a hunch that he was probably pretty noisy when doing sweaty things without clothes on and it only made that hot trickle of desire burn hotter at the thought. “Uh, do you,” he stammered when she untied his stupid sexy bowtie and began to work on the buttons of his stupid sexy tux, “hang on, hang on, hang on.”

He sounded like he’d been running a marathon, the way he was gulping for air, but he pulled back, even as she whined in protest, and stroked his thumbs along her cheeks as he tried to focus. “You wanna do clothes-on fooling around or, like, really naked stuff?”

Dany huffed out a laugh, shoving his black jacket down his shoulders, arching a brow at him, thinking that would be enough.

But Jon shook his head. “Nope, you gotta tell me out loud, lady.” She felt like she was going crazy, for real this time, when one hand left to toy with the zip of her dress again. “Like, I need you to be super clear about this.”

“Jon,” she said, forcefully, standing up as straight as she could, wobbling only slightly on her heels as she succeeded in pushing his jacket to the floor. She took a step forward. “I wanna get really, really naked and make some bad decisions. Like, do really dumb stuff.” She shoved at his chest, and the way his eyes went wide and his sexy mouth made an ‘o’ and he looked so shocked made her feel powerful and mega-hot and so she just went with it and took another step. “Really dumb, sweaty, naked stuff needs to happen with your man bits and my lady bits.” She tipped her head to the side and finished with his buttons, then gave him another shove so that the backs of his knees hit the bed and he was sitting on it, his mouth level with her chest.

Yes, that was great, that was right where she would like his mouth right about now, she thought.

“Was that clear enough?”

At her question, he swallowed hard, again, his eyes seeming to notice what was right in front of him, and she needed this dress off yesterday. She ached, everywhere, and he needed to fix that for her, because he started it and this time she was gonna make sure he finished it.

She grabbed his shirt, pulling the fabric apart and shoving that down his arms, too.

“Am I awake? This is like a really awesome dream, I gotta be honest.”

She laughed at his stunned face, but then something else showed up, something so hungry and starved that she was taken aback, and she let him free just enough for him to rip his sleeves the rest of the way down his arms and grab for the zipper of her dress and thank GOD this time he wasn’t just teasing.

He inched it down, his eyes dark and his pupils so wide she thought his eyes looked black and he really pulled that look off, and then he was licking his lips and pulling at the fabric as it gaped and then whoops, yep, her breasts were just out there, and she thought he might pass out for a second with the way he was staring at them.

“Jesus,” he breathed.

“Yes, my son,” she intoned and then she frowned because that was a weird thing to say, and she always did that, said weird things like that, but he just made a face and grinned and shook his head.

He barked out a laugh, even as he pulled a face. “Stop it, weirdo,” he said, then he put that clever mouth to work on her nipple, his tongue circling and flicking at it the moment he sucked it into his mouth.

“Oh God,” she moaned, and tried to shove her dress over her hips as fast as she could while also staying standing because his mouth was so hot and his tongue was so delicious that she thought she could die happy, now.

But maybe death could wait a little longer, because his hands entered the mix and he was working her over like a pro, thick fingers twisting and pinching lightly at one nipple as his mouth did amazing things to the other, and she kicked her dress off, just in her heels and very un-Dany like panties, the buttcrack kind, and when he realized she was nearly naked he pulled his mouth free, letting her go with a loud pop that made her almost embarrassingly wet.

“Oh, man,” he said, just staring her up and down, like he was burning it into his memory, just repeating the same two words over and over again, and she was starting to think he’d short-circuited, but then he grabbed her waist into both hands, lifting and twisting as the world shifted and she found herself on her back, heels still strapped on and catching the comforter, and it was him standing, now.

“Take off those itchy clothes,” she said, trying to sound really smoky and sultry and she figured it worked, with the way his chest seemed to stutter as his eyes travelled up and down her body. She toyed with a curl, looking at him through her lashes as his hands began to work at the button of his trousers, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a man undress himself so fast. He kicked his shoes off so hard she heard one hit the wall, and she giggled, stretched an arm above her on the bed, writhing a little bit as his pants were gone and it was just Jon in his boxers.

She liked that Jon, sure, with his hot six pack that he thought no one knew about and his chest muscles and his big biceps, but she wanted to know where that little trail of hair just below his navel went, so she rolled onto her hands and knees, flipping her hair to the side so she could see, and crawled forward, lip caught between her teeth.

His stomach tensed when she let her fingertips glance against him, palm moving lower to feel him, through his boxers, all hot and hard in her hand, definitely promising, and she was about to pull him free when he snarled and swatted her hand away.

“Nope,” was all he could manage, it seemed, and he caught her wrist in his hand and held it away as she pouted. “Hands off, sneaky.” He dragged her up, crushing her to his chest and burying his hand in her hair as the other dropped to squeeze her ass, and then he was kissing her again, mouth devouring hers, teeth dragging at her bottom lip, and they were a squirming, struggling mess of limbs as he finally managed to get her back onto the bed.

She was addicted to the way his chest felt rubbing against hers, and she let herself savor it as she sucked his lips into her mouth, first one, then the other, hands smoothing through his hair and down his shoulders, until he ripped his mouth lips away from her, leaving her mewling pitifully.

“Be right back,” he said, and she felt her brow wrinkle, wondering why in the hell he’d be leaving now, but he must’ve been talking to just her mouth. His began a trail down her body, stopping to lick and lave and suck at each inch of skin he found, and he settled back on her breasts for long, endless minutes. She was gonna to explode, she thought, some kind of spontaneous human combustion that started down south and travelled upwards and that’s how they’d be found.

But then he started licking his way down her abdomen, and it tickled, the way his curls brushed her skin, and the tip of his tongue seemed to drag in a hot, wet line that made her pant and squirm under his touch.

Then she realized he had reached the junction of her thighs, and she thought she knew what he was gonna do, and it was a little embarrassing, the way he was staring at her, like he’d found all the secrets of the universe right there, in her stuff and nonsense. His fingers plucked at her panties, flimsy and blue and a thong of all things, which she usually never wore, but Jon seemed to like them, a lot.

So she tipped her hips up shamelessly, as he leaned closer, his breath puffing out against the inside of her thigh as he began to pull them lower, and lower, and then there she was, Dany Targaryen, super duper naked, with her stupid sexy roommate licking his lips and spreading her open with his fingers.

“Shit,” he muttered, and she couldn’t believe it was Jon kneeling between her spread legs, and it was Jon who was teasing the tip of his finger around her center, and she propped herself up on her elbows to watch, because she had to see it, to know it was happening. She had to watch.

He realized it, right away, she saw, and there was nothing in the world as insanely hot at the way he stared at her, as his mouth went to work, his tongue flicking and licking at her clit while his fingers slipped inside her, and she couldn’t say anything, anymore. Her brain stopped working at the first touch of his mouth on her, and then he was swapping his fingers for his tongue and Jon Snow was tongue fucking her and it was just too much.

Her head went back and her mouth fell open and she was just yelling nonsense. That’s what it sounded like: babbling, incoherent blends of ‘Yes’ and ‘Don’t stop’ and his name and she was being so loud and she didn’t even care.

God, she didn’t care at all, because he was so good at this, mouth moving back up to suck at her clit, with more pressure, two fingers working inside her, stretching her, crooking up inside her to find something, she guessed. Then he found it, and her eyes popped open and her back was arching and she was wailing so loud she was sure the whole reception, several floors below, could probably hear, but that didn’t matter, at all.

She fell back, elbows sliding out from under her, hips rolling and walls clenching around his questing fingers, and she was coming and coming and coming, harder than she ever had, in her entire life.

And it was Jon doing it to her, Jon making her feel this way, and the more she rode out each wave of her climax, the sweeter it was, and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she looked down her body to find him watching her intensely.

“Damn,” he muttered, pushing up to his knees, spreading her legs further apart as he shoved his boxers over his hips. She got a fair peek at his cock, long and thick and bobbing at his hasty motion, and then he was on her, his face even with hers. “I wanna see you do that again.”

A breathless laugh escaped her, and she felt herself clench at the thought, eyes dropping between their bodies. She licked her lips as she studied him, then she smiled and locked her arms around his neck, pulling him fully onto her. “Then make me, Jon.”

He let out a harsh breath, and then his hand slipped between them, and she didn’t have time to think or speak or anything, with the way the head of his cock was nudging against her, so close to where she wanted him, but she managed to choke out a scrambled admission that she was, in fact, on the pill, and he should proceed.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, then he was kissing her senseless and his cock was pushing into her and she felt invaded, in the best way, like he was consuming her, head to toe, and she wanted him to do this forever. She moaned, head tossing as he thrust into her, the wet, slick sounds of him fucking her only making her want all of him, harder and faster.

“Jon!” He guided her thighs up, to wrap around his hips, one of his big hands holding tight to the curve of hers as he began to give her what she wanted, and how had he gotten so good at this? She scraped at his back, nails digging into his skin, and he just growled in response and tucked his face into the damp skin of her neck as she gasped and called his name.

“Oh, shit, Dany, fuck you feel so good, how do you feel so good?” He hissed against her neck when she tightened down on him, intentionally, and let his hand smack lightly against the side of her ass. “Naughty girl,” he moaned into her throat, and it was just so good, the way he felt inside her, how he filled her, how he surrounded her and it was just him, and them, and she never wanted it to end.

She rocked her hips against his, faster, meeting his thrust with one of her own, and she wondered absently if she was going to be bruised and battered from this but it didn’t matter because even that slight sting of pain, even the way he was so deep inside her, just made the pleasure burn brighter, and she was gonna come again, she knew it, and when he bit into her neck, gripping and holding her with his mouth, she realized he knew it, too.

He was grunting with each push into her, and hitting something inside her that made her shiver, and then God, she was coming undone, again, and pulling him along with her, and she knew nothing had ever felt as right as the way he shuddered in her arms, his low throaty moans blending with her higher ones as they fell over the edge, together.

They were sweaty and sticky and breathless, and it was…

It was really, really nice. She felt better than she had in ages.

He tried to pull out of her, to pull away, but she tightened her arms, kissing the top of his head softly. “There’s no escape, matey. ‘Yer my prisoner, now!”

His shoulders began to shake, and she realized her pirate impersonation was finally getting the appreciation it deserved, and she laughed, quiet and low as he peeked up at her.

“That was a terrible impression.” He began to laugh harder when she smacked a hand against his shoulder lightly, mouth falling open in pretend insult.

“How dare you, Jon. That was a great one, and you know it.” She let him go, this time, when he pushed against her, and watched as he flopped over next to her on his back, and at the loss of his warmth she had a fleeting moment of pure fear and panic. Was it gonna be weird now? What if it was horrible and awkward and she had to move out? What if—

“No,” Jon said, shaking his head, grinning as he rolled onto his side and propped up an arm, looking down at her. “It was bad. THIS is a good pirate impression.” He squinted, and he screwed up his face, his voice gravelly and low. “Argh! Show me yer booty, wench!”

She giggled helplessly, clapping her hand over her mouth as she saw him try very hard to look hurt. “You’re just jealous, Dany. That was a perfect pirate. I was one when I was twelve, for Halloween, eye patch and all.” He sighed and shook his head at her, his fingers smoothing her hair back from her face. “I know every booty joke in the book.”

She sighed, too, deciding to stop thinking and worrying, and just did what she wanted, let her fingers tangle with his, pulling his hand to her mouth and kissing his fingers. “I guess I have a lot to learn, matey.”

Jon laughed, his face smoothing out, and they just smiled at each other for way too long before he lay back, letting out a breath and pulling her onto his chest. He pet her hair softly, soothingly, and she was almost asleep when she heard him whisper.

“Are we fucking everything up, Dany?” She picked her head up, the heartbeat racing under her ear echoed in the sheer panic on his face. “What if we can’t go back from this, and it all just gets really bad and shitty? I don’t wanna lose you.”

“No freaking out,” she whispered, and leaned up to kiss at his brow, then the tip of his nose, then his lips. “I like you, a lot. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do, and I don’t know how to stop, and I don’t think I can.”

Jon nodded, gnawing at his lip for a minute before he replied. “Yeah, me too. About you.”

“Good,” she said, and she knew it should be weird, what they just did, and she knew he brought up some really good points, but this felt right. Really, really right, like this was always meant to happen, and she wasn’t afraid of it anymore. “So, we’re gonna try really hard not to fuck it up, and have really awesome sex, too.”

“Okay,” Jon said, his whisper slightly more confident than he’d seemed moments ago. “Yeah, okay.” Then he peeked at her, smiling slyly. “That was really awesome, right? It wasn’t just me?”

Dany snickered, and settled back against his chest. “My mind is blown. Seriously. Like, nice moves, Snow. You could go pro.”

His chest was shaking now, and she heard him snort as his hand started smoothing up and down her bare arm. “You’re just saying that.”

Dany shook her head, letting out a quiet “Nope,” her eyes falling shut, the sound of his heart pumping the last thing she heard.

\----------

In the morning, when he blinked away, it was to a mouthful of silver hair and a warm naked body in his arms.

Jon wasn’t sure he’d ever been so happy to wake up in his life. Like, he wasn’t a morning person, ever. But as he glanced down to see Dany sleeping peacefully against his chest, smiling slightly, he let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and relaxed against the pillows.

Waking up like this? He could get used to this.

She shifted against him, and then there she was, awake and blinking up at him, with her ridiculously big eyes and terrifying beautiful 'I just woke up' face.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he replied, a little nervous, a little turned on, a little worried.

Slowly, her hands began to creep up his chest, and she looked between them both, noting, as he certainly did, they were both still abso-freaking-lutely naked.

Then she smiled at him, letting one hand slide back lower, and when she made it past his navel her smile became a grin. "You wanna go again? One more for the road?"

She was perfect, she was so perfect, he just wanted to board up this room and fuck her forever. And eat sometimes, too. Maybe off her body? He was getting a lot of ideas, a whole lot of dumb, excellent ideas. "Hell, yeah."

\----------

They were an hour out from Winterfell when Theon and Grey quit arguing over whether Megatron was actually stronger than Optimus Prime, and had slumped against each other, asleep in the back seat.

A hand crept into Jon's, slim fingers lacing through his, and he smiled as he glanced over to the passenger seat.

"If you're trying to seduce me," he whispered, "I'll have you know I'm not some floozy, car sex kinda guy. Wait 'til we get to a rest stop, like a respectable person."

Dany's perfect little nose wrinkled in disgust. "Ugh," she sputtered. "Shut up, Jon."

But she was still smiling, and he lifted her hand up, kissing the tips of her fingers. "Make me.”

She gave him a little wink, peeked over her shoulder to ensure Theon and Grey were still asleep, and pulled his hand to her thigh. “Feel like making a bad decision?”


End file.
